morning.’
‘Actually, we’re after information about the householder,’ Pam said.
‘You mean Clara?’
‘Yes.’
‘Poor woman. What a dreadful thing. Was it an accident?’
‘We believe so. What can you tell us about her?’
‘Not much. In her late twenties, New Zealander. I don’t think I ever knew what her surname was, or I’ve forgotten it if I did know.’
‘Friends? Relatives? Anything like that?’
‘Can’t help you, sorry. She kept to herself.’
The next driveway, at the top of the hill, took them to a large house with a view across Waterloo to the refinery point on the bay. The curtains were drawn in all of the windows and no-one answered when they knocked at the front and back doors. Pam peered through a gap in the lockup garage and saw a newish-looking Mercedes.
Then they heard a tin clatter in the gardening shed and came upon an elderly man pouring petrol into a ride- on mower.
‘God, you nearly gave me a heart attack.’
‘Do you live here, sir?’
‘Me? No. I pop in now and then, do the mowing, watering, check on things. Why? What’s up?’
Pam got out her notebook. ‘Can you tell me who does live here?’
‘Stella Riggs. She’s away for a few days.’
Pam noted the details, including a reminder to come back and question Riggs. ‘Sir, do you know anything about the fire down the road?’
‘Me? Nothing. Should I?’
‘A woman called Clara died in it. We’re anxious to trace her relatives.’
‘Don’t know a thing about her.’
‘Do you live locally, sir?’
‘No.’
Pam looked around pointedly. ‘I don’t see a vehicle.’
The old man indicated a rusty bicycle. ‘What do you think that is?’
Danny had been seen going over the fence. He was also seen coming back, this time by Sergeant van Alphen and a constable in a divisional van.
‘Danny, my son.’
‘Shit.’
‘Now look what you’ve gone and done. Perfectly good VCR, and you have to drop it in the dirt.’
‘I can explain. The heads need cleaning and I was just taking it around to-’
Van Alphen punched him, not hard, but enough to make him reconsider his position. ‘What was that, Danny? I didn’t quite catch that.’
Tears came unbidden to Danny’s eyes and he saw it was true, what they said about van Alphen. ‘Don’t hit me no more. I want to see Constable Murphy.’
‘What do you want to see her for?’
‘She’ll give me immunity.’
‘That’s a big word for a squidgy little shit like you. And I doubt it, somehow.’
They took Danny to the station and charged him. But the Pam Murphy chick wasn’t in the station, so Danny said, ‘I want to call my lawyer.’
Nunn was quick off the mark. There in ten minutes. Danny couldn’t believe it. She demanded time alone with him, and as soon as the door was shut she said, ‘You’re a fuckup, aren’t you, Danny, eh?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Danny looked at her hotly. Thinks she’s so good, all dolled up in her tight skirt and jacket, briefcase, hair looking like its been washed and brushed for hours, smelling like a bottle of perfume’s fallen all over her, nasty superior look on her face. ‘You got no right to call me names.’
‘I’ve got every right. As your lawyer, I’ve got every right. What did you think you were doing? Broad daylight. You’ve got a good job. Can’t you be satisfied with that? I can’t go spending all my time bailing you out of trouble.’
Fucking stuck-up bitch. Who did she think she was? ‘So, am I getting out or aren’t I?’
‘Mate,’ Marion Nunn said, ‘quite frankly I can’t get you out of here quick enough. You can’t be trusted to keep your gob shut.’
Now, what was that supposed to mean? Still, better out than in.
Challis picked up the ringing phone and snapped off his name. It was six o’clock and he wanted to go home. ‘Challis.’
‘It’s Freya. Got a minute?’
Challis sat back in his office chair and stared at the ceiling. ‘This sounds like bad news.’
‘It is.’
‘I’m all ears.’
‘The lungs. Fresh and pink inside.’
Challis put his feet up on the edge of his desk. ‘You’re saying she’d stopped breathing before the fire started.’
‘I am.’
‘Heart?’
‘The heart was fine. But you know those bone fractures, and the bleeding?’
‘How will I ever forget.’
‘Well, most were due to the extreme heat, but not all. She’d been bashed around first. Beaten to death, in other words.’
Challis said goodbye and stared at the wall. After a while, he called the Progress and told Tessa Kane, ‘You might want to stop the presses.’
And wondered at his motives.
Twenty
Ellen was late on Thursday morning. Challis’s Triumph was already in the car park, Scobie Sutton’s station wagon, cars she recognised as belonging to the seconded officers from Rosebud and Mornington.
She found Rhys slicing open the tape around a small box with a pocket knife. He smiled, then immediately sobered and touched her forearm. ‘Are you all right?’
She’d been crying for half of the night. ‘Just tired.’
‘Tell me.’
His big hands were on her shoulders. She looked away, blinking hard. ‘It’s nothing, Rhys. I’m okay.’
She felt his fingers relax and finally release her. He turned away. ‘Fair enough. None of my business.’
In a way, it was. She tugged him back and searched his face. She wanted to be able to say that she’d had the most godawful row with her husband, that her husband felt scared and threatened, and had accused her of being fast-tracked because she was a woman, of splashing her money about on air-conditioning just to show him up, and of fucking the man she’d hired to install it. But all she said to Rhys Hartnett was, ‘Things are a bit tense at home, that’s all.’ She paused. ‘Look, Rhys, I don’t know how to say this-I’m sorry, but we won’t be having aircon
